Not My Body
by nmyph13
Summary: Famous New York doctor Dr. Isabella Swan finds that she can put herself into other people's minds when she is in a sleep like state. She and Peter Petrelli discover their powers, fall in love and go to save the cheerleader, save the world.
1. Chapter 1

Running, my heart pounding, I race down the street. People yell as I bump into them, but I ignore them and keep running. I feel like I am being followed; I turn to look back, but in the brief second I look, it is a blur. Seems like paranoia has finally gotten to me. But, wait, I'm not usually paranoid. How come I feel like I'm always like that?

I turn into an alleyway, frantic. I feel like I am one of those gazelles from the Discovery Channel and I am now prey. Feeling stalked, I start to run, frantic and jittery. My hunter is masked in the foliage, but I can sense that he is there. I pump my legs harder as I turn down the alley. Breathing hard, I try to force myself to go faster, but my feet are numb and my legs are Jell-o. I can see the end of the alleyway, illuminated by the street lamps, car lights and neon signs.

It is night and in the alleyway, it is very dark. Suddenly, I stumble over something and trip, sprawling out onto the ground. My knee hurts, along with the palms of my hands, and there is something sticky on my face. I sit up slowly to find myself surrounded by a group of men, faces hidden and clothed in black. Each of them is carrying a sliver knife, shinning white into the darkness and hurting my eyes.

"Who are you?" I call out, but it is not my voice which speaks. It is a voice that is slightly deeper than my own and horse, almost squeaky. My hand comes up to shield my eyes as flashlights shine down upon me.

What I see in their light made my stomach churn and to gag. The thing that I had tripped over just moments ago is a dead body lying in a pool of blood. I want to scream, or to puke, but my throat closes and I can do neither. The cadaver looks like he was stabbed to death, and as the men surrounding me drew in closer, I see that there is blood on their shinning knives. They killed the man, I think. I wipe the sweat that is dripping from my forehead, but when I pull my hand back, I find it is covered in blood that is not my own. I look down at the puddle of blood at my knees and see my reflection in it. It is not my frighten face that looks back; it is the face a pudgy middle-aged man with thick glasses and partially bald. Then, thoughts that aren't my own flood through my head and I drown in the sea of knowledge that isn't my own.

Scared, I look up as two sets of rough hands lift me from the ground. "Who are you?" I ask again, but they do not answer. Instead, they ask their own question.

"Did you kill this man?" they ask and I shake my head violently, not taking my widening eyes off them. My answer didn't seem to please them and they shook me and one grabbed my neck. "We know you did," they say, but I plea that I hadn't. I start trying to fight their grip on me, but they only grab me around my waist and pull tight. I scream out, but no one hears me as a sudden pain jolts me from between my ribs. I stop struggling and look down to find a knife in my chest. I am in shock and do nothing as the black clothed men stab me to death.

Finally, as the last knife slices through my abdomen and disembowels me, I am violently awakened.


	2. Chapter 2

A woman in her apartment awakes from a violent dream. She sits up in up in bed, panting and tears running down her face. Frantically, she looks around and finds herself in her own room, safe in bed. She jumps off her bed and runs to the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. The light that she switches on over the sink is bright and blinding, reminding her of the knives that moments ago had punched into her stomach. There is a dull ache were they got her and she wishes she could find some ibuprofen. But, she must look into the mirror to see if she was really her and not the fat middle aged man with glasses.

Looking into it, she grips her face and feels that it is real. The woman in the mirror is a short brunette with bright blue eyes, dressed in a white tank top and short shorts. Her heart shaped face was twisted in horror and there are bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in weeks. She sighs in relief when she is sure that the face is her own. She sighs and goes back to bed, exhausted.

In truth, she hasn't slept in weeks. Well, not as much as she should. Every night, she would wake up from a vivid dream of herself dying, falling, getting married, flirting, or playing in the grass. In every dream, she wasn't herself; in other words, she was different person, physically and mentally. Every time, she would wake up, panting like she had done the marathon and scared. She diagnosed these hallucinations on her lack of sleep and stress from work, but her boyfriend said otherwise. He was a psychologist and he thought that she was slightly touched in the head. She ignored him and tried to get more sleep.

Back in bed, she finds that he is not there. She sighs, knowing that he probably had a late night call or something. Rolling over, she tries to get more sleep. Just as she begins to dose off, the phone rings. Surprised, she dives for the phone on the night stand and feverishly answers.

"Hello?" she says, breathless in fear.

"Dr. Swan?" a male voice says on the other end of the line. "Is this Dr. Swan?"

"Yes, speaking," she replies.

"This is Mr. Martens," the man says. "I'm the son of one of your patients."

"Beatrice?" she asks. "Is your mother Beatrice Martens?"

"Yes." His voice tells her that he is angry, or frustrated, and tired. "Listen, she needs you right now."

Dr. Swan looks over at her clock. The LED lights show that it is half past two in the morning. Inwardly, she groans. "What happened?" she asks Mr. Martens.

"I caught her eating Twinkies again," he says, and Dr. Swan can just picture him rolling his eyes as he sighs into the phone. "We had a huge fight and that's when she fell over."

Dr. Swan sits up and throws off the covers, searching for her bureau. "Did you call paramedics?" she asks.

"Yeah," Mr. Martens replies. "But she says she won't move until you get here."

Dr. Swan sighs, closing her eyes and putting a hand to her head. "I'll be there within the hour," she replies.

"Thank you," he replies and they both hang up. Dr. Swan gives a huge sigh and, throwing the phone onto the bed, gets up to search for clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

She arrives to find Mrs. Martens' house is infested with paramedics. She squeezes past several of them as they bring in medical equipment. Holding her coat and bag close, Dr. Swan tries to find Mrs. Martens from amongst the commotion.

"Hey!" the head paramedic calls out to her from the living room, where he was talking with a tall man, Mr. Martens. "This isn't a place for reporters! Get out!"

Dr. Swan whips out her ID card. "I have every right to be here," she tells the arrogant bastard. "I'm Mrs. Martens' doctor. Where is she?"

The tall man looks relieved. He tells the head paramedic something, making him shrug and move away to supervise something. The man then walks over to Dr. Swan, extending out a hand. His thin face also has bags under his eyes and a withered, tired expression about it. Dr. Swan grasps his extended hand as he says, "Thank goodness you're here. I didn't know what else to do when she started screaming for her doctor."

"You're her son, right?" she asks the tall man and he nods.

"Yeah," he says. "I found your number on the 'fridge. My mother has only allowed the paramedics to move her into her bedroom. Only you can convince her to get to a hospital."

"Where's her room?" Dr. Swan asks, pulling her file on Mrs. Martens from her bag. Mr. Martens takes her by the arm and leads her to a pink bedroom that is filled with people. Most of them are relatives, who are gossiping in disgust while paramedics flit around them. Mrs. Martens, the woman of the apartment, lies on the bed and whining in pain. She is a large lady, a regular for Dr. Swan. Back when doctors suggested she get help, she only wanted Dr. Swan, who was well known in New York for being one of the best. Not that Dr. Swan cared, it paid well.

When she enters the room, the relatives descend on her like vultures on a zebra carcass. Some are praising her for her work and her books and her success at finding a cure for a strand of cold virus back when she was learning at MIT. Others are looking down their noses at her, chiding her for not "fixing" Mrs. Martens better. She ignores them, trying to get to the bedside. The relatives follow her, buzzing around her like flies or their annoying cousin the mosquito.

Dr. Swan can't take it anymore; she turns to face the relatives, fire in her eyes. "Please, SHUT UP!" she yells and the room suddenly quiets. Mr. Martens whistles softly in admiration. "If all you're going to do to help Mrs. Martens is standing around gossiping like old women, I suggest you do that somewhere else. There are people in here who are trying to help her, and with you all clustered around her and getting in the way, that can't happen. So please, get out!"

There are a great many grumbling from amongst them, but no one makes a move to leave. Dr. Swan's face gets redder. "I said, GET OUT!" she screams. "Or I will remove you myself!" Slowly, the mob of relatives finds the door and leave, mumbling incoherently. Mr. Martens helps usher them into the next room. After the last leaves, he comes over and puts a hand on her shoulder. Dr. Swan looks up.

"Thank you," he says.

Dr. Swan smiles sarcastically. "Good luck," she replies. He nods and leaves.

Turning back to Mrs. Martens, she yells out some orders to the paramedics. They nod and move to do what she asks. Dr. Swan turns back to Mrs. Martens, her throat burning.

"Mrs. Martens, can you here me?" she asks the hulking figure lying on the bed. "It's Dr. Swan. Can we talk now, please?"

Mrs. Martens' eyes, which are close, squeeze shut tighter. She is obviously scared of her doctor because Dr. Swan is a "no nonsense" kind of person and very strict. She slowly opens one beady eye to see if Dr. Swan was still there. She is, arms crossed and an expression of stone upon her face. "I'm waiting," she tells Mrs. Martens, so Mrs. Martens opens both eyes and looks away. "My eyes are here, Mrs. Martens," Dr. Swan tells her. "Turn here please." She turns and opens her mouth to start making excuses, but her doctor holds up a hand, silencing her. "I don't want to hear any excuses," Dr. Swan says. "This is the second time in a month that your son calls me and tells me that you've been buying snacks like Twinkies again."

"But," Mrs. Martens begins to say, her girlish voice whining. Dr. Swan holds up a hand again.

"I don't want to hear it!" she tells Mrs. Martens. "I don't want to have to keep coming down here and be the bad guy. Yet, you make me police you! You're the one that wants to loose weight, not me."

"But, Dr. Swan," Mrs. Martens says, but Dr. Swan waves her arms, like swatting aside a bug.

"No! No 'buts'!" she says. "If you can't follow the rules we made together to help you get back on track, then I can't help you. You called me several months ago, begging me to help you because no other doctor will, and I agreed. You want my help, don't you?"

"Yes, but-" Mrs. Martens begins, but her doctor interrupts again.

"Then you have to help me help you," she says. "Stop eating Twinkies, or so help me, I will hunt you down and skin you alive!" Mrs. Martens nods hurriedly, the fat on her neck giggling as she quivers in fear of her doctor. Dr. Swan sighs and takes Mrs. Martens' hand in hers. Looking into her eyes, she says, "I want you to love your body as much as you love food, but you have to help me out here. It's like I'm drowning and you won't throw me a life line. You're a great person, but you need to stop eating stuff that's bad for you. Now, please let these nice men and women bring you to the hospital where they can take some X-rays to see if you broke anything."

Mrs. Martens nods again. Dr. Swan smiles weakly, giving her hand one last squeeze before letting go. She signals the paramedics to bring in a stretcher and leaves the room. She sighs, exhausted. It is now four in the morning and she is dead on her feet. She makes sure that Mrs. Martens is loaded on the stretcher and says good bye to her soon before she makes her way to the door. All Dr. Swan wants right now is to find a cab and get home and into bed as soon as possible. Sighing, she signals for a cab, and tries to ignore the growing itch on her back.


	4. Chapter 4

She gets home to find her apartment door unlocked, the sound from a television coming from within. He's home, she says to herself, and smiles as she comes through the door. Her boyfriend, the psychiatrist, is in the bedroom, brushing his teeth in his boxers.

"Hey, you're back!" he calls after he spits out the toothpaste. "I was wondering if you got a late night house call."

"Yeah, it was Mrs. Martens again," Dr. Swan replies, taking of her coat and flopping back into bed, exhausted. Her boyfriend smiles in the mirror at her as he finishes shaving.

"You look awful," he tells her as she rolls onto her stomach to face the TV. She grabs the remote and changes the channel to some Bugs Bunny cartoon.

"I feel awful," Dr. Swan replies. "I haven't gotten sleep in days."

"Having those nightmares again?" her boyfriend asks. She looks over at him, a smirk across her face. She loves the psychiatrist a lot; he was tall, dark and handsome, along with being a sweet and sensitive guy. Just standing there in the bathroom, clad in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, he was like demi-god, radiating in the weak bathroom light. He had a few flaws, like leaving the toilet seat up, but otherwise, he was like a puppy, a really big puppy.

"Yeah," she replies, looking back to the TV.

"What was it about this time?" he asks as he comes back into the bedroom and starts to dress for work. He has an eight o'clock appointment with a schizophrenic and didn't want to be late again. It is only half-past seven, but the streets outside their window are bustling with morning traffic, the sun just peaking over the towering skyscrapers.

Dr. Swan sits up and watches him dress. "Are you sure you want to here it, John?" she asks him.

"Yes, unfortunately," John replies, fixing his tie. Turning towards Dr. Swan, she smiles. She loved John in a suit; just the way the fabric fitted against his body gave it a perfectly chiseled look. He smiles and comes to sit next to her on the bed. "I just want to make sure my girlfriend is mentally healthy."

"Tell my patients that," she says. He smiles. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she recalls the dream that she had earlier. The images seem as clear in her mind as one of her own memories. The running, the falling and the stabbing all had seemed so real, like it was actually happening to her. "I just feel like this actually happened," Dr. Swan tells John, who nods in acknowledgement. He has his briefcase and is almost ready to leave. "You know what I mean, John?"

He lets out a huff of breath. "A lot of dreams can seem that way," he replies, looking into her mirror. She comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck to straighten his tie. "What makes these dreams you keep having so different?"

Dr. Swan shrugs. "I don't know," she says. "They just feel different." Her eyes wander towards to the TV, which she had switched to a news channel. On the screen, she saw a number of people in an alleyway, surrounding something that the camera could not get an angle on. As she stares, she finds that the alleyway shown is very familiar to her, but it was in a part of the city that she had never been to. Yet, it seemed so familiar, but Dr. Swan could not put her finger on when she had seen it….

Then, it hits her like a ton of bricks; it is the alleyway from her dream that morning. She shouts in exclamation and points at the screen. "There!" she says. "That is the alleyway from my dream!" As John comes over to look, Dr. Swan turns up the volume to hear what the reporters were saying. According to them, Mr. Lloyd Wright, 42, was stabbed to dead at the scene of the crime for the murder of Celeste Hathaway, 23, had been killed in a gang war. Medical examiners reported that while Hathaway was killed in the early evening of last night, Wright had been killed at half past two that morning. Pictures of the two victims flash across the screen; Dr. Swan points to Wright's picture, saying "That's him! That was the man who I was last night!"

"That's impossible, honey," John says. "How could you be him?"

"I don't know how," she says. "But I dreamt his murder and he was me!" It is silent, the two of them staring at each other for several seconds, trying to figure out each other. Only the voices of the reporters sounded in the small apartment. Finally, John sighs and pulls Dr. Swan into a hug.

"I don't know what you dreamt," he says, holding her tight. "But I'm glad you weren't killed." He kisses her on the top of the head. "Have a good day, hon."

She sighs, knowing that he doesn't believe her. "You, too, dear," she replies. John smiles and heads for the door. He passes by her bag, stopping as he hears a faint ringing coming from within it.

"Your cell phone's ringing," he tells her. Dr. Swan rushes to her bag as John closes the door behind her. She digs in her bag and comes up successful. She flips open her phone and answers.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Swan? It's Benny." Benny is her secretary, who takes care of her appointments and paperwork at the hospital where she works during the day.

"Hey, Benny. What's new?"

"Remember when you were given the job to assign hospice nurses to work for the various people in the city who are dying?"

Dr. Swan rubs her head, trying to remember if that was last month or the month before. "Sure," she replies. "What of it?"

"The chief of medicine wants you to check in the newer nurses to make sure that everything is going well."

She gives a frustrated sigh. "Why can't they send a senior nurse to do that?" she asks Benny.

"I don't know," he replies. "But, you're lucky; you only have to check up on one."

Dr. Swan gives a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness," she says. "Who and where?"

"A suite in the local rich house," Benny replies. "Mr. Deveaux is the man that we sent a nurse to."

"But who did we send?" she asks.

"The newbie Petrelli," he replies. "I put his file in your bag last night. You remember him, right?"

"Not in the slightest," Dr. Swan replies, finding the file and flipping through.

"Good, a non-bias report is the best," he replies. "Good luck. They expect you in an hour."

"Thanks," she replies sarcastically. She would just go right back out the door again. "See you later at the hospital."

"Ta-ta!" Benny replies and hangs up. Dr. Swan sighs; sometimes she loved having Benny around, but sometimes she just wanted to wring his neck. Oh well, she thinks, got to get going again. Grabbing her bag and coat, Dr. Swan heads right back out the door, leaving the TV on and the dream of the murder behind.


	5. Chapter 5

"Is this the place, ma'am?" the cab driver asks. Dr. Swan, who had dosed off in the back seat, is startled awake.

"What did you say?" she asks, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes. She looks like hell, but with the job she has, as one of the best doctors in New York, she has no time to sleep or take very good care of herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

The cab driver chuckles and looks back at her in the rear view mirror. "What you didn't catch was a few "z"s last night," he says to her. "What do you do that doesn't you get enough sleep?"

"Medical practice," Dr. Swan replies. She looks out the window. "We're here already?"

The cabbie nods. "Yep," he says. "And that will be $23.50, please."

She pays the cab driver and gets out, finding herself in front of one of New York's biggest apartment buildings. It is an old building, made from concrete and stucco painted a dirty pink. The building had been a bank, back in the 1940's, but several years ago it had been remodeled into an apartment building. Now, each apartment floor was home to some of New York's richest businessmen and bankers. Walking through the elegant glass doors and into the lobby, Dr. Swan could clearly see that; she did pretty well off her salary, but not this well. She was in awe of the grand high ceilings and marble floors, along with the grand mahogany desk that sat before the elevators. This was the home of Mr. Deveaux, a wealthy and powerful businessman who had retired slightly early due to an illness. Now, dying here in a lavish apartment building, it was this new hospice nurse's job to look after him.

Dr. Swan walks up to the front desk. The secretary that sits there looks up from her computer screen. "Can I help you?" she asks the doctor in a pleasant voice.

"I'm here for a Mr. Deveaux, who lives up on the roof," Dr. Swan replies.

The secretary nods and stands to walk over to a phone over on the wall. She is wearing a lovely pink cashmere sweater and flowing black printed skirt with strappy pink sling backs, not to mention the simple and elegant silver earrings and matching necklace. The doctor sighs, wishing she could dress like that. She had given up trying to look as fantastic as that when her work started to take over her life. Now, the cute and beautiful pieces of clothing sat in the back of her closet, replaced by jeans, printed tees and the occasional ballet flat. She now looked more like an old teenager than a successful doctor. Dr. Swan leans on the desk, hand supporting a cheek as if she was jealous, yet bored by it, as if it happened a lot.

The secretary returns and hands the doctor a visitor's pass. "Mr. Deveaux is expecting you," she tells Dr. Swan. "Make sure you keep this pass in sight and to return it when you leave."

"Thanks," the doctor replies, taking it. The secretary sits back down as the doctor heads towards the elevator. On the ride up to the top floor, Dr. Swan takes a look at her reflection in the mirrors on the elevator doors and walls. She definitively agreed with the thought that she did look like a teenager who had just rolled out of bed, and sighs, defeated by the fact that she can't do anything about it now. So she looks down at her feet, wiggling them in her ballet flats.

Then, she notices something in the mirrors. The reflection from the mirror behind her was reflected onto the mirror in front of her and what she saw wasn't pretty. Through her thin coat, her shoulder blades seemed more defined than usual. They also seemed to bump out more and become more pointed. Maybe it was like that before, maybe not, but she didn't have time to investigate if her shoulder blades were abnormal because the doors of the elevator open out onto the top floor. She sighs and steps out. "What else could go wrong?" she asks herself, walking down the hall.

Coming to the door of Mr. Deveaux, Dr. Swan knocks, wanting to get the review over with. Several moments later, a dark skinned woman with long curly hair answers the door. She is tall and is wearing a dark blue modern wrap dress with a black belt and boots. Again, the doctor wishes that she could dress like that.

"Are you Dr. Swan?" the tall woman asks. Dr. Swan nods and the woman smiles weakly. "Come in," she says, opening the door wider to let the doctor in.

The inside of the apartment was just as elegant as the lobby downstairs. It was filled with antique stylish furniture and many paintings. In awe, Dr. Swan takes off her coat slowly.

"May I take that?" the tall woman asks her, pointing to the coat in her hands. The doctor hands it over to her and looks around more as the tall woman hangs it up on a hook. Coming back to the doctor's side, she holds out a hand. "I'm Simone," she says and the two women shake. "My father is here in the other room, Doctor…."

"Swan," she replies. "Dr. Swan. I'm actually here to see your father's hospice nurse."

Simone nods. "Peter just got here, but you're welcome to talk with him." She leads Dr. Swan into a large bedroom; the bed, with its fine spread, faces two French doors that lead out to a terrace. In the bed lies a dark skinned older man in a red silk robe, IVs in his arms and tubes running down his windpipe through his nose. His eyes are closed and he is breathing softly, sleeping.

In a chair opposite the door sits a young man in hospital scrubs, reading the morning's paper. He seems to be slightly taller than Simone, who is not as tall as Dr. Swan first perceives her to be. His light brown eyes cast down at the paper before him as his long dark bangs dangled down into them. His thin face looked indifferent and bored, yet with a light expression of worry. As Simone enters, he looks up, his finely chiseled face surprised and flushed as if embarrassed.

Gesturing to her father, the handsome man says, "He likes me to read him the stock page."

Simone smiles her weak smile and nods. "This is Dr. Swan," she says, pointing to the doctor, who nods. "She has come to review you and your work."

The man nods and walks around the bed towards the two women. He holds out a hand to the doctor to shake. "It is nice to meet you, Dr. Swan," he says as they shake hands. When she releases his hand, he runs his fingers through his hair, nervous. "I read your books and I think they're great. Your work is really astounding."

Dr. Swan nods. "Thank you, Mr. Petrelli," she says.

Mr. Petrelli smiles. He has a very unique smile; one corner of his mouth curves up while the other corner rounds out, like that side of his face was made of hard scar tissue and damaged nerve endings. It had a crooked look, showing only some of his teeth, but it is cute and gives Dr. Swan a desire to laugh in spite of herself. She bits back her lower lip and becomes business like.

Simone nods several more times, then says "I'll leave you two to work. I'll be out in the kitchen if you need me." She leaves and Mr. Petrelli, who had been looking at her with a dreamy look in his eyes, snaps out of a trance and turns to Dr. Swan, smiling.

He gestures for her to sit down in his chair as he changes Mr. Deveaux's IV. "So," Dr. Swan says, sitting and taking Mr. Petrelli's file from her bag. "Let's do this thing, shall we?"

Mr. Petrelli looks up from the IV drip that he is fixing. "You don't enjoy doing this, do you?" he asks, smiling slightly as he turns back to his work.

"I would rather be a lowly resident, cleaning bedpans at the hospital," she says, sighing. Taking out a pen, she asks, "How do you like working with Mr. Deveaux, Mr. Petrelli?"

"I like it just fine," Mr. Petrelli replies, wiping his hands on his scrubs. "You can call me Peter, if you like."

"I like 'Mr. Petrelli' just fine," she replies, looking up slightly from her notes just as Mr. Petrelli's face displays an expression that said "Suit yourself." She holds back a laugh and looks down again, trying to become business like again. He catches her trying to suppress her smile, and watches her as she smiles and continues to take notes on him. Seeing her rare smile, he smiles himself as he pretends he doesn't see it and continues to answer her questions. Dr. Swan doesn't look up again, her cheeks flushed, but Mr. Petrelli keeps trying to catch her eye, feeling her embarrassment. He wanted to smile for her, to make her feel more comfortable because she seems to feel so uncomfortable in her skin and uncertain and tired. But she does not look up, and he is left to answer her questions.


	6. Chapter 6

Soon, Dr. Swan is finished with questioning Mr. Petrelli about his job keeping Mr. Deveaux comfortable as he died. She still refuses to look up at Mr. Petrelli in fear that she'd lose face and will seem very unprofessional. She also didn't want to give him any false hope that he'd get a good review. Anyways, she gets up from her chair to shake his hand and to thank him. When they clasp hands, Mr. Petrelli smiles again and she sees it. The urge to smile back was too great to suppress it totally, and a little joy flows into her eyes, making them sparkle. He spots them, along with the corners of her mouth slightly turned up.

"Thank you, Mr. Petrelli, for your time," she says to him, making eye contact with him and trying to make her face as emotionless as possible. "You will receive your review within a week."

"You're welcome, Doctor," he replies, looking into her eyes. Releasing her hand, he runs his fingers through his dark hair. Cocking his head to the side in curiosity, he asks her, as she hurries to the door, "You don't smile much, do you?"

The question catches Dr. Swan off guard. She stops on the threshold of the bedroom and lays a hand on the doorframe to steady herself. She turns to face Mr. Petrelli again, a skeptical look on her face. "What makes you say that?" she asks him.

He shrugs, a grin creeping onto his face. "This whole time you've been holding back," he says. "You want to, but you feel embarrassed and unprofessional."

Shock appears on her face, but she quickly covers it. He had not only caught her hiding her smiles, but accurately guessed what she was feeling as he beamed down at her. From just interviewing Mr. Petrelli, she had found that he is very empathetic and caring, with a heart of love and generosity. But, that pales in comparison to his ability to identify exactly how she felt. It was slightly scary, in a way.

She wants to say something back, to make him quiver in his own boots, but he stands there in front of her, smiling and so innocent. She opens her mouth to say something, but that is when Mr. Deveaux wakes up.

"Peter, son," he says, his voice husky and frail. "Did I fall asleep again? I'm sorry."

"That's alright, Mr. Deveaux," Mr. Petrelli replies, taking his eyes off of Dr. Swan. "You need your rest anyways."

"Oh, you're too good to me," Mr. Deveaux replies. He notices the doctor standing, shocked, in the doorway. "Who is this, Peter?"

"My boss, I guess," he replies, looking up at Dr. Swan and shrugging, giving another crooked smile. She blushed a deep crimson. "She's come to see how I'm doing."

"Oh, no need to do that," Mr. Deveaux says as Mr. Petrelli checks his medications. "You're going a fine job, Peter, son." His eyes, which had shifted his gaze slowly from Mr. Petrelli to Dr. Swan, now rest on her. "I assume you want to chat with me, Doctor?"

"Y-yes," she stutters. "That would be nice."

Mr. Deveaux nods. "Peter, why don't you take a break while the doctor and I chat?" Mr. Petrelli nods and leaves the room. He has to pass by Dr. Swan, and as he does so, he gives her a sympathetic smile, making her blush more. Mr. Deveaux chuckles softly and she turns to face him, a look of surprise on her face.

"What's so funny?" she asks him. He shakes his head as he tries to stop laughing, but begins to cough. The doctor moves to help him, but he lays a hand on her arm, stopping her.

"I'm fine, dear," he says when he stops coughing. "I'm laughing because he is trying so hard to make you smile, to make you comfortable. That is his talent."

Dr. Swan gives him a confused look. "I don't understand."

Mr. Deveaux smiles like a father would smile for a young child. "While you have the ability to heal people, Peter has the ability to feel someone's emotions and then he would try to help them," he explains. He looks into her eyes. "We are all special, just different."

"So," she says, trying to change the subject. "Can I take that as good word for Mr. Petrelli?"

Mr. Deveaux smiles and nods. "He might not be as great as a doctor as you are, Isabella dear, but he does try hard to do his best at what he can do."

Dr. Swan's eyes widen in surprise. "How do you know my first name?" she asks.

He smiles again. "Anyone who reads your books or gives your name to their friends knows it," he replies. "But, I find that calling someone by their respected title is not a personal as calling them by the name they were given. And also, Isabella is such a pretty name."

She blushes. "Thank you, Mr. Deveaux," she says, getting up and holding out a hand. "I wish you the best."

He grasps her hand in both of his and holds it for a moment. "Look out for him, will you?" he asks. "He is such a good boy that he can be oblivious of what is happening around him."

Dr. Swan nods. "I will try, Mr. Deveaux."

He smiles one last time and release her hand. As she turns to leave, he says "Believe in the impossible, Isabella. Sometimes the possible is too foggy to trust." She pauses at the doorway, trying to understand what he means, but feels that she must leave. She feels like Mr. Deveaux had seen something inside her that she wanted to hide, like the dreams, and she is scared. What if Mr. Petrelli could see it, too, whatever was inside her?

Suddenly, she closes her eyes drifts off into a trance. She tries to fight it, but it envelopes her in its soft warm arms. She rips open her eyes to find herself in Mr. Deveaux's room. But she wasn't at the doorway; she was lying in bed, facing the French doors. She felt heavy and weak and looked down at her hands to find that they were old and wrinkled, as well as liver spotted and dark skinned. In her arms are IVs and there is a tube running down her windpipe. She almost shrieks as she discovered she was in Mr. Deveaux's mind. She tries to get out of it by closing his eyes, but couldn't. Panicking, she tries to ease the pain that his body has. It is a dull, throbbing pain in his chest, which flickers on and off, slowly bring him closer to death. She calms her mind, concentrating on soothing thoughts. Slowly, the pain subsides and eventually shrinks to a soft pressure on his chest. And, just as quickly as she had slipped into Mr. Deveaux's mind, she slips out, finding herself breathless, but back in her own body. Dr. Swan sighs in relief and sneaks a peek at Mr. Deveaux. His eyes are closed and he is breathing more easy. He seems more comfortable than before and there is a rosiness in his cheeks that wasn't there before. He sighs gratefully and says "Thank you, Isabella." Scared, she flees.

She hurries to the kitchen to find Simone alone, making tea. She seems slightly surprise when Dr. Swan walks in.

"You're done already?" she asks, reaching for the tea pot and pouring another cup for the doctor.

"Just about," Dr. Swan replies. "I just need to get some remarks from you and I will be done."

Simone nods and gestures for her to sit down at the table. The two women both sit and sip on tea as Dr. Swan asks about Mr. Petrelli. "He is very kind to my father," Simone says, cupping her mug in her hands. "It has done him much good to have Peter around."

"And how does Mr. Petrelli treat you?" Dr. Swan asks, taking notes.

Simone then does the strangest thing. She was answering the questions with a curt kindness before, but now she hesitates and blushes slightly. "Um," she says, putting a hand to her face. "Fine. He treats me very kindly." Dr. Swan notices this and sees that Mr. Petrelli had a similar, if not identical, affect on Simone as he had on her. She does not take note of it, but finds Mr. Deveaux's statements about Peter to be some what true. He did have a way of making people feel more comfortable in their own skins, along with feeling what they felt.

At this, she decides that she is finished. Dr. Swan gets up from the table and thanks Simone for her time and the tea. Simone shakes her hand in turn and leads her to the door. As she opens it, letting Dr. Swan out into the hall, she pauses a moment before closing it. As she dose, the sleepiness creeps back onto Dr. Swan and again she finds herself fighting the darkness. Opening her eyes, she sees herself standing in the hallway, exhausted looking. Again, she is not in her own body; as Simone, her head aches slightly, but grief grips her heart because of her father's failing health. Dr. Swan desperately wants to be back in her own body and at home, where she could stay out of people's heads and feel safe. She sooths Simone's headache, thinking calmly about how to get out of her head. Slowly, as Simone's pain upsides, Dr. Swan slips out of her mind, leaving her with her own headache. Now that she thought about it, she had a dull pain throbbing in her chest, like Mr. Deveaux had. Back in her own body, she stumbled slightly down the hall.

"Are you alright?" Simone asks as Dr. Swan steadies herself.

"I do hope so," Dr. Swan replies and heads to the elevator. "Thanks again, Simone."

"Do you want me to get you a cab?" Simone asks.

"No, I'm fine, really," she replies and presses the "down" button on the elevator. Slowly, Simone closes the door behind her as the elevator arrives and Dr. Swan gets in. On the way down, the mirrors on the walls of the elevator show her to be pale and weak. Also, the bumps on her back were bigger than before. She almost screams, but instead falls to the floor of the elevator, panicking. Everything is going wrong. The room is spinning and as the elevator reaches the bottom floor, it is hard for Dr. Swan to exit. Quickly, she returns her visitor's pass to the front desk and charges out the glass doors to hail a cab. When one arrives, she stutters out her address and waits to arrive. She feels her forehead; it's hot with a fever. She feels very sick, but doesn't know why.

The cabbie pulls up at her apartment and turns around, expect her to pay him. She thanks him and hurriedly stuffs the money into his hand. She burst out of the car, scaring the driver.

"Hey, you alright, lady?" he asks her as she goes up the front steps.

"Fine," she manages to get out, but she feels the exact opposite.

Getting into her apartment, she finds it empty. Running to the bathroom, she starts to strip off her clothes. She gets in front of the mirror and twists to see her back.

She screams. On her back are what seems to be two small arms growing out from where her shoulder bonds are. They have no hands attached to the ends, but something like a second joint that came to a point at the end. They are a fleshy pink in color and itch a hell of a lot. Dr. Swan tries to reach and touch them, but they move and extend out of reach. She screams again.

"What are they?" she screams into the empty apartment, still trying to reach back and rip them off. She wrestles with herself, trying to get at them. Suddenly, her head hits the shelf behind her and she falls to the floor. Her vision slowly going blacker and blacker, she wants to scream out again, but she is swallowed up in the soft, muted darkness of unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

She awakes several hours later when the beeper at her waist beeps loudly, a page awaiting her. Dr. Swan sits up to find that her head hurts tremendously from bump that is growing on her head. She feels like her head is swimming and her stomach heaving. But, it is her beeper that is calling her away from her state of being. She looks down at the number to find it is the number of one of the residents down at the hospital. She sighs, exhausted from what a day she has had already, and gets up. She looks in the mirror to find that she is naked from the waist up and then remembers why. Looking at the things that were growing out of her back again, she wonders what she should do with them. While she was out cold, they seem to have gotten bigger, so someone was bound to notice. Thinking, Dr. Swan rummages through her bathroom sink's drawers, looking for cloth bandages. She finally finds some and starts to wrap it tight around her chest, covering the growths. She does it clumsily and when finished, they are nothing more than two lumps. Satisfied with her work, she finds a baggy shirt and one of her boyfriend's sweaters to wear and leaves her apartment.

She walks down the street for a bit, trying to clear her head. Discovering that she was famished, she stops in a pastry shop to get something. Coming out several minutes later with a hot croissant in hand, she passes by a bookstore. It is one of her favorites and she used to visit it more often back when she wasn't famous and had more time to spare. Now seems like a good time, she thinks to herself. As she finishes her pastry outside, she looks at the window display. One book in particular catches her eye. It is a blue hardcover, whose cover reads _Activating Evolution_ with a simple symbol behind it. It is shaped like the letter S and has lines sticking out on the insides of the curves, one line on the top, two on the bottom. It seemed interesting enough, so she walks in and up to the front desk.

"Excuse me," she asks the man at the desk, whose back is to her. "I was wondering if I can look at one of the books in your window display."

The man turns around and looks at her over his glasses and gasps. "You're Dr. Isabella Swan!" he says, quite loudly, too. "Your books are amazing! Just astounding."

"Thanks," she replies. "I'm glad you enjoyed them."

"I was wondering if you would sign my copies," he asks her, beaming up at her with his pearly whites.

"I guess so," she says, shrugging her shoulders. "I will if you could get me one of the books in your window."

"Certainly!" the book seller says. "Which one?"

"Um, the blue covered one," the doctor replies. "Its title is _Activating Evolution_, I believe."

The man presents her with his copies of her books and as she signs them, he moves to the window and extracts the book from its stand. He brings it up and hands it to her, asking her if it is the one. Dr. Swan nods and asks to purchase it. He rings it up for her as she finishes signing.

"There you are," he says, handing the book over to her as she gave him his books and pen. "Enjoy it. Though, it is not as scientifically correct as your books."

"How come?" she asks.

"Why, what it is saying is completely impossible!" the man says. "It's about how our DNA can mutate in such ways that could cause us to have superpowers. It is quite preposterous, if you ask me. I have it in the paranormal section."

She frowns at the book. It seems creditable enough, she thinks. "Who's the author?" she asks.

"A Dr. Chandra Suresh from India," the man replies, holding her books to his chest like they were gold. "Rumor has it that the geneticist moved here to New York after he got kicked out of his university for his research on the stuff he writes in his book." He shakes his head. "Lots of people have gone to see him to see if he can help them, but if you ask me, what they need is a loony house!"

"Oh," she replies, looking at the author's picture on the back. "Well, thanks for the book."

"Thank you for the autographs!" he replies, smiling. "Have a good day, Dr. Swan!"

"You, too," she replies as she exits the book shop. Looking at the book, she felt that this Dr. Suresh could help her, once she finds out where he lives. She reads the inside cover, finding that what the book seems to be about was things that she recognizes, like the ability to read minds. It was similar to what she believes she can do, but she hopes that the doctor could tell her more.

On the sidewalk, Dr. Swan signals for a cab. One rolls up beside her and Dr. Swan gets in. The driver, who is dark skinned and foreign like most New York cabbies, asks her where she wants to go in a thick Indian accent. She tells him the address of the hospital and he drives away from the curb, heading back into the traffic. She leans her head on the back of the seat and looks up at the sky through the rear window. The cab's radio is on, the reporters talking about the eclipse that day. She can see the eclipse looking up through the window and marvels at it. She had never seen such a thing of beauty like this eclipse, except as a kid in her science textbooks. The cabbie takes a look back at her in his rear view mirror.

"Spectacular, isn't it?" he asks. His accent sounds more British now, with Indian undertones. "It is a rare event, shown all over the world."

"It is," Dr. Swan agrees. She has a splitting headache and digs in her purse for painkillers. She has taken more painkillers today than she has ever done. She has never been in this kind of pain before, either.

The cab driver sees her wincing in pain. "Headache?" he asks.

"Yeah," she responds, finding the painkillers and taking several without water. "But it's not just that. My back aches something awful."

"That is odd," he remarks. "You look young and healthy. Back pain shouldn't start until your later thirties."

Dr. Swan looks up into the rear view mirror, looking into the cabbie's eyes. "That right," she says, astounded. "How do you know that?"

"Back in Indian, I was a geneticist," he says. "I had to take several years of medicine to become one."

She laughs and smiles at him. "What are you doing here in New York?" she asks.

"Following the work of my father, who was a geneticist himself," he replies.

"I meant, what are you doing driving a cab?" she says. "You could get yourself a better job in a lab here."

"It's the first thing that came to mind," he replies. "My father did it when he came here."

"What did he study?" she asks.

"He did lots of research on how our DNA mutates," the cab driver explains. "He believed that there that was people out there that had superpowers that resulted from mutated DNA."

Dr. Swan gasps. It was exactly the same research that the doctor does from the book that she holds on her lap. She looks down at the author's picture on the back, then back up at the driver. "Is your father Dr. Chandra Suresh?" she asks him.

The cab screeches to a halt at the stop light. The driver whips around and looks at her, his heart shaped face solemn, but angered. "How do you know my father's name?" he asks, malice in his voice.

She is scared and shrinks back in her seat. "I just bought his book," she explains, holding it up for him to see. "I was just curious."

He looks at the book and turns back to face the road just as the light changes to green. "Oh," he says. "Sorry that I scared you."

"Is your father here in New York?" she asks. "I would love to speak with him." Then, thinking that he would suspect her for being someone who thought they were special, she adds, "I'm a doctor and former geneticist myself. I would love to hear his theories."

"I am afraid you can't do that," the driver says. "My father is dead and that is why I am here."

"Oh, dear," Dr. Swan replies. "I am so sorry. I did not know."

He waves a hand at her. "It does not matter," he says. "I am just trying to keep his research alive."

"I would love to speak with you sometime, then," she says as he slows the car to a stop in front of the hospital. "If I may. I never caught your name; what was it?"

"Mohinder Suresh," he says, leaning over the back of the seat to shake hands with her. "And yours?"

"Isabella Swan," the doctor says. "Well, Dr. Swan. But you can just call me Bella."

"It was nice to meet you, Bella," Mohinder replies. "Here's your stop. That's thirty-fifty."

Bella pays him and get out of the car. "I hope we can talk sometime," she says through the passenger's side window.

"Me too," he replies. "It would be a pleasure."

Bella smiles and waves as Mohinder drove off. Then, as her beeper vibrates at her waist again, she walks into the hospital and to her job.


	8. Chapter 8

Inside the hospital, it is hectic; nurses are running everywhere and doctors are hopping from patient to patient. Bella checks in at the front desk, where Petunia, a desk nurse who wears flowered scrubs is on duty. Signing in, Petunia remarks to her, "Dr. Marks is not happy that you weren't here this morning."

Bella gives a sigh of irritation and asks her, "Didn't Benny tell him that I was reviewing a hospice nurse this morning?"

"Yes, he did tell Dr. Marks," Petunia says, rifling through patients' files. "At ten o'clock this morning. It is now quarter past one."

Bella winces. She usually isn't this late, even when she had an appointment with a patient. Putting down the pen she uses to sign in with, she asks in a bored tone, "I'm going to get whipped for this one, right?" Petunia, not once taking her eyes off the files, nods. Bella smiles sarcastically and says, "He has just been looking for something to rub in my face, the jerk." Petunia shrugs her shoulders as Bella heads off to her office to put her bag down.

She gets to her office to find several of her residents standing outside her door, waiting for her. They ambushed her as soon as they saw her. Holding her hands to defend herself, she says, "Whoa! Don't you guys have stuff to get done?" There is a sudden chorus of voices that turns into a loud chaos. Covering her ears, she yells, "Enough! I'll put my things in my office and come to help you guys!" Her residents back off and silently watch as she unlocks her door and enters her office. Inside, she throws her bag down on the floor and throws her keys and Suresh's book onto her cluttered desk. Grabbing her white lab coat, stethoscope and her patients' files, she heads out back to her residents and is met with another chorus of voices, each resident desiring her help on something.

An hour later, Bella is bushed. She stops at one of the nurses' stations and uses the counter there to fill out some forms. She hears footsteps come up behind her and stop. Before the person had a chance to open his mouth, she says, "Just can't wait to point out my mistakes, can you?" turning around with an unhappy grimace on her face, she finds herself facing Dr. Marks. He is tall, blonde and has an ego the size of the moon. He only had a few more years of experience on Bella, but he always thought himself the superior doctor. Now, he was looking down at her and smiling.

"Why, Dr. Swan!" he says, a little too enthusiastically. "So happy that you can finally join us!"

"Ha-ha," Bella responds sarcastically. "Is that all you got?"

"I haven't even started," Dr. Marks replies as Bella rolls her eyes and starts down the hall. He follows, strutting beside her. "Since when did you review hospice nurses?"

"Since the chief of medicine assigned me to do it several weeks ago," she retorts, trying to ignore him. "When are you going to have the stick removed from your ass?"

"Ouch, Dr. Swan," the pompous doctor says, holding a hand over his heart. "That hurts my feelings. Why are you so cruel?"

"Would you like me to prescribe you something for it?" she asks, stopping and facing him. Drawing herself up to her full height, she gets right in his face and looks at him with determination. "I would be most happy to."

"Dear, dear Dr. Swan," Dr. Marks chides. "Do I hear a sarcastic tone in your voice?"

"No, I am serious," she replies, the heat rising in her voice. "And I am serious when I ask you to stop harassing me!"

"Well!" he replies. "I'd never!" There was an intense moment of silence, heated emotions shooting daggers from both their eyes. Bella feels her mind slip from her body and into Dr. Marks's. She finds herself suddenly looking back at her body, angry and eyes glazed over. She staggers back in his body, surprised. Mentally, Bella wills him to stop harassing her, putting a pressure on his brain to make him obey. Then, she slips back out and back into her own body to continue the staring match. She watches as Dr. Marks tries to compose himself after she invaded his mind, rubbing his head in disbelief. "Fine," he finally says. "I'll stop bothering you." He walks away hurriedly, trying to get away from her as quick as possible. Bella, satisfied with herself somewhat, walks back to her office.

A half an hour later, she is done for the day and decides to head out. After gathering her things and saying goodbye to Petunia, Bella leaves the hospital for the subway station. Today, she feels like visiting the alley that was in her dream/vision last night. It is only several city blocks from here, she tells herself. She starts off, taking the route she usually took when going to the subway. The alleyway is actually a short cut to get to the station that she usually gets on to go home, so it wouldn't be too much out of the way.

Arriving at the alley several minutes later, she finds it to be deserted. All that is in the alley is trash cans and dumpsters, along with the fire escapes of the buildings whose walls form it. She slowly walks down it, taking it all in as she remembers what happened to the poor man last night. Now, all clean of blood and bodies, it feels awkward and a wave of déjà vu overpowers her, giving her a splitting headache. Stumbling suddenly, Bella puts a hand to her head as a man on his cell phone walks into the alley from the other end. She faints, her mind leaving her body again.

Before even opening her eyes, she feels a light breeze on her cheeks and ruffling her hair. It feels exhilarating and makes her feel powerful and alive. Opening her eyes, she finds herself standing on the edge of a roof building that overlooks the alley. Fear paralyzes her thinking as she notices it is not her body, but someone else's. They say something, but she doesn't understand it. They are looking down upon the man who was on his cell phone, until they had dropped their own down next to him. He begs the person to come down from there, but they refuse. Suddenly, Bella finds the person to be falling, just leaning over the side and stepping off. She internally screams and closes their eyes, waking seconds later in her own body. She gasps.

In front of her, she sees the person who she was just apart of falling of the building towards the man that was at the other end of the alley. She screams as time seems to slow, making everything go slower. It seems like to take forever for the man to fall closer to the ground. She starts to run towards the two men, screaming in panic. Time then suddenly speeds up again as the man in the alley suddenly jumps into the air to grab the falling man. Bella stops, shocked at what she is witnessing; the two men hang together for several seconds in the air before the flying man looses his grip on the falling man. The falling man starts to fall again, but just before reaching the ground, he suddenly soars up into the air several feet, and then falls back to the ground with a sickening crunch. Bella rushes to his side as the flying man lands near by.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" she is muttering over and over again as she looks over the fallen man.

"Hey!" the flying man yells at her. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a doctor," Bella replies, whipping out her cell phone to call the hospital. She tosses it to the flying man. "Call the police. He will need immediate medical attention." She begins frantically feeling for the fallen man's pulse. As she presses her fingers against his neck, she gasps.

The flying man hears her. "What?" he asks, closing her phone. "What's wrong?"

"I…I know him," she replies, looking astonished down onto the fallen man. The long dark bangs and angular face were so familiar to her. She was holding no other than Peter Petrelli in her arms, watching him die. "He is the hospice nurse I reviewed this morning."

"I know him, too," the flying man says. She looks up into his eyes. They are light brown and glow softly, making his long and stout face shine. His brown hair is close cut and he is wearing a suit, like many lawyers and businessmen that work in the city. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "He's my brother," he finally says.

Her mouth drops. Now his face looks familiar; she has seen it several times on the news and on billboards all over the city. The flying man is Nathan Petrelli, running in the election to be New York congressman. She points at him, about to say something, but Nathan stops her. "Not a word to the press about what happened here," he says. She nods, and then turns back to Peter. His head was bleeding profusely and he was unconscious from a concussion that he most likely received from the fall. She only met him today, but she prays that he will survive.

Paramedics arrive with the works and load Peter onto a stretcher while asking both Nathan and Bella about what happened to him. At Nathan's request, she remains silent as he explains how Peter fell from the roof. They then load him into the ambulance, which is parked at the end of the alley. A paramedic, who's a good friend of Bella's, calls out to her. "You coming, Dr. Swan?" he asks.

"Just a minute!" she calls back, then turns to Nathan. He is trying to make his long face conceal what he was feeling, but he looks very stressed. "May I ride to the hospital with Peter?" she asks him. He begins to protest, but she holds up a hand. "Let me rephrase that," she says. "I'm going to the hospital with Peter. I'll meet you there, alright?"

Nathan sighs and gives up; he waves a hand at her to get going. She smiles and rushes into the back of the ambulance. As the doors shut behind her, she watches as Nathan is instantly swarmed by reporters. She feels sorry for the politician, but more worried for Peter's survival. Her attention turns to him as the ambulance hurries down the street to the hospital.


	9. Chapter 9

The ambulance arrives at the hospital several minutes later, and Bella rushes along side the stretcher as it is rushed into intensive care. She is yelling orders to nurses and residents that rush around her, holding Peter's hand all the way. As he is wheeled into an OR, Dr. Marks, dressed in scrubs and an operating mask, comes up to her and stops her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks as Bella fights his grip on her arm that prevents her from following Peter through the next set of doors. "Paramedics have found internal bleeding and I do believe that you are not the doctor on call today."

She rips her arm from his grasp. He begins to shout as she races down the halls, trying to find Peter. She stops in front of a window of an operating room, recognizing Peter's dark hair. She watches as surgeons and nurses battle with his internal bleeding to save his life. The head surgeon comes up beside her as she grips the window sill with white knuckles.

"Is this the one you came in with?" he asks her. She nods, turning to face the head surgeon.

"I want to be in there with him, please," she asks, her eyes watering up as she awaits his answer.

The head surgeon shakes his head. "I don't think you will be able to," he replies. "Surgery has already begun."

Tears run from Bella's eyes now. "Please," she begs. "I beg of you! Please let me just at least stand beside him and clean his face of blood!"

"I am sorry," he replies, his face full of sympathy for her. "I can't let you. The chief of medicine tells me that he needs all doctors on call in case there is more coming in." But Bella doesn't listen to him. Sobs rip at her throat as she holds them back and tears continue to run down her cheeks. She watches as the surgery goes on. The head surgeon lays a hand on her shoulder. "Is this the infamous John that we have heard so much about?" he asks as he recalls hearing about Bella's boyfriend.

She shakes her head. "No," she replies. "But I know him." The head surgeon shrugs, pats her on the back and leaves as she continues to watch the operation. It may as well be John there on the table, Bella thinks to herself as she wipes away tears, heading to her office. She feels very strange; why does she cry over an almost complete stranger? She only knows him from that morning in Mr. Deveaux's apartment when she went to review him. She remembers talking with him and his face and his smile, especially. When he smiles, Bella feels like the world melts around her and all her troubles leave her. At the same time, his crooked, jaunty smile sends excited shivers up and down her spine, giving her the feeling of wonderful happiness. She doesn't know what other reason for her sobbing over his broken body besides his smile.

After changing into scrubs, a nurse finds Bella as she heads back to watch Peter's surgery. "What is it?" she asks the nurse.

The nurse runs to keep in stride with her. "The man that is in surgery now," she says, handing Bella his records and file. She flips through it as the nurse went on. "His brother, mother and close friend are waiting in the waiting room to get news of what is happening to him," she tells the doctor. "And his brother is requesting to see you personally, even thought you are not the guy's doctor."

"Tell them I will be right with them," Bella responds. The nurse nods and hurries off to do this. Bella keeps walking down the hall towards the surgery wing, wanting to know how Peter's surgery was going. She nears the OR when several doctors in scrubs come out of it, weary and sweaty. Bella runs up to one of her residents that were in there, operating on Peter, and walks beside her.

"How did it go?" she asks the resident. The resident is slightly taller than herself and Bella has to crane her neck to look up at her. The resident sighs, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"It went well," she replies to Bella. Bella gives a huge sigh of relief and relaxes her body, which has been tense ever since Peter entered the hospital.

"Thank God!" she says, wiping tears of joy from her eyes.

"He is now in intensive care," the resident continues, seeing that Bella has his file in her hands. "Once we now how he will respond to medication, he will be moved out into a regular room."

"This is great news!" Bella says, a slight skip in her step now. "I will be glad to report this to his family."

She starts down the hallway to the waiting room to get Nathan, but the resident stops her by laying a hand on her arm. Bella turns to her to find that the resident's face is pale with fear and confusion. Bella sees that something is wrong and asks the resident, "Are you okay?"

"Dr. Swan," she says, her throat dry and knees wobbling slightly. "I swore not to tell anyone about this, but…."

"What is it?" Bella asks, scared now. "What happen in there?"

"It was the most petrifying thing I have ever witnessed," she says, grabbing both of Bella's arms as if to make sure the doctor was real. "Things happened in there that were so horrifying that I don't know if I ever want to be in surgery again."

"What happened?" Bella asks, hating to be suspense.

"The man we were operating on," the resident continues, looking around to make sure no one else is listening. "He was not a normal person."

"I don't follow," Bella replies.

The resident licks her lips, a nervous habit she has. "During the operation, he started to rise off the table," she says. "Like in a magic act, he simple rose into the air and hovered there. It scared everyone in the OR and we were sworn to secrecy, but I was so scared I had to tell someone."

Bella herself went a little pale herself. What the resident describes is something similar to what she had seen in the alleyway. Near the point of death, Peter had saved himself by flying. Now, probably when the surgery was going to take a turn for the worst, Peter had tried to do it again to save himself. This seems like a very logical explanation, Bella thinks to herself. She rubs the cold, nervous sweat off her forehead and straightens her coat.

"Do you believe me, Dr. Swan?" the resident asks, still hanging from Bella.

"I'm not quite sure," she replies. The resident, stunned, lets go and Bella leaves her for the waiting room, like she was in a trance. Her only thought is: "How the hell am I going to explain this to his mother and to Nathan?"


	10. Chapter 10

Yay!!! Happy Tenth Chapter!!!!! Sorry, I just like to celebrate every ten chapters, so bare with me. Enjoy!!!

Bella walks into the waiting room to find a dark-haired woman arguing with the nurse Bella had sent to get Nathan and his family. The nurse is holding her own with the lady, but when she sees Bella, her eyes show visible relief. She quickly shuffles from the room, and the dark-hair woman throws her arms in the air in disbelief, her hair in its tight up-do falling from its pins.

"Can you believe that, Nate?" she asks Nathan. Nathan is standing near by and is on his cell phone with the press, trying to cover up Peter's free fall from earlier. "I couldn't get a straight answer out of that woman about Peter!"

Bella nods to herself as she confirms that the dark-hair woman is Mrs. Petrelli, Peter's mother. Cautiously, she approaches her. "Mrs. Petrelli?" she asks the lady. The lady turns, a purse on her slightly wrinkled face. She pulls her suit jacket closer to her and flattens the wrinkles.

"Yes, that's me," the woman snaps. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Bella holds out a hand and introduces herself. "I'm Dr. Isabella Swan," she says. "I've come to give you news of your son, Peter."

Nathan hears Bella's familiar voice saying his brother's name, and comes over, shutting off his phone. "What about Peter?" he asks, shoving the phone in his suit pocket and looking intently at Bella. She could see the similarities between mother and son; both never liked to beat around the bush and demanded the most from people. She yet couldn't see how empathetic Peter could fit into this family of people who were so attention seeking.

"Peter has just come out of surgery," Bella replies, keeping her voice cool and controlled. "He had some internal bleeding that needed to be patched up. He is now in intensive care until we know how he will respond to medication."

"Can we see him or not?" Mrs. Petrelli asks curtly. Bella is slightly taken aback by this, but calmly answers.

"Yes, of course," she replies, holding her arms out as if to say, "After you, ma'am." Mrs. Petrelli sniffs, straightens her suit and starts down the hall. Nathan follows, looking back to see if Bella was following. They walk side-by-side as a nurse led Mrs. Petrelli to Peter's room.

Nathan leans over and whispers into Bella's ear. "Have you told anyone about you-know-what?" he asks softly, but he can't hide the urgency in his voice.

Bella hears this urgency and shakes her head in reply. Nathan gives a sigh of relief and continues to whisper. "Thank God," he says. "You have saved me a lot of trouble. I've only manage to keep what the press already has under wraps. I'm eight points behind the polls and can't have Peter pulling a Roger Clinton on me."

"I understand," she replies as they near Peter's room. They watch as Mrs. Petrelli enters the room to see her son. Bella stops Nathan before he follows his mother.

"The doctors in the OR saw him levitating off the operating table," she tells him. He immediately stiffens and his facial expression is stone cold with worry. This probably wasn't the best time to tell him this; Bella thinks this to herself, and believes that he already has so much on his plate. She puts a hand on his arm to keep him with her as he tried to go for his phone. "But they have all been sworn to secrecy," she adds. He freezes, wanting to believe her, but still not convinced. "No one will believe them if they tell anyone else, anyways."

"They better keep to their promises," Nathan says, exhaustedly. He sees the worried expression on Bella's face and shifts uncomfortably. "Look, it wasn't your fault that he was levitating off the table," he says. "I understand that you are doing your best to help Peter."

Bella nods and releases him. "What was Peter doing up there on the roof?" she asks. Nathan sighs, looking away and running a hand through his hair. She could see that this was a touchy subject for him and that she needs to tread lightly. "You don't have to tell me," she adds quickly. "I know that this is none of my business, but as a doctor I am concerned for his mental stability and am naturally curious to why he jumped."

Nathan crosses his arms over his chest, being defiant. Bella could plainly see that he wasn't going to tell, so she decides to take some drastic measures. Calming her mind, she slowly slips into the mind of Nathan Petrelli. She finds herself feeling uncomfortable with someone prying into private matters and even more concerned with politics; she is in. Focusing on the feelings that made him tight-lipped, she softens his view towards her, making Nathan feel more comfortable around her. She even adds the feeling of trust for her and quickly slips out of his mind. She arrives back in her own body to find Nathan's posture to be looser and an air of confidence in her surrounding him. He looks down either end of the hall to see if anyone would listen in on their conversation and sighs tiredly. "Peter claimed that he was having these dreams of himself flying," he tells her. "He said that they were so vivid that they were most likely to be true."

"So he thought that he could fly based on these vivid dreams he's been having?" Bella clarifies. Nathan nods. She flushes slightly, feeling stupid about her own vivid dreams and where they have led her almost to the point of insanity.

"So he tells me next that he wants to find out if he could really fly," he continues. He shifts slightly. "I didn't know whether to believe him."

"Why?"

"Well, he's claimed before that he has a spiritual bond with me," Nathan says, starting to pace. Bella backs up to give him room. "I didn't believe him at first, but then there was that accident…."

"What accident?" Bella asks.

"Some months ago, my wife and I got into an accident on the freeway," he says. She gasps, clasping her hands to her mouth in horror.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she says.

"Yeah, thanks," Nathan replies, scratching his head. "But my wife wasn't so lucky. She is paralyzed from the waist down."

"I'm so sorry," Bella apologizes.

Nathan shakes his head. "Don't be," he says. Bella does not understand. "It is supposed to be me who should be in the wheelchair."

"Why do you say that?"

Nathan sighs, starting to feel slightly irritated with Bella's questions. She decides to back off a bit to avoid suspicion. But he continues. "Right for the car hit the barrier," he begins, and then pauses as he remembers the painful memory. "I soared into the air and landed a hundred feet from the car. I now know how that happened, but I don't know why." He is becoming uncomfortable again, so Bella tries to sooth him. She is too tired to enter his mind again, but she decides to change the subject slightly.

"How does this relate to Peter?" she asks.

"He arrived at the hospital just after I arrived there myself," he says. "But I hadn't even called anyone about the accident yet."

"How did he know to come, then?"

"That's just it!" Nathan says, pointing it out with a slightly louder voice. "How did he know? I asked him how and he said that he didn't know, but just that it came to him in a dream. He thinks that we have a spiritual connection and he can sense my emotions and stuff like that." He sighs. "I don't know what else to say, but that he was slightly right about the whole flying thing."

Bella nods. The spiritual connection must have grown between the two brothers, she thinks, or that both brothers had the ability to fly. But one thing was bothering her; Peter could not only sense Nathan's emotions, but others, including her own. Nathan does not know this, she thinks, and it is probably best not to mention her theories.

Instead, she says, "Thanks, that's all I need to know." Nathan gives a tired smile and walks in to join his mother at Peter's bedside. Bella means to follow, but leans up against the doorframe. She has to know more about Peter's background, because the facts are simply just not adding up. There is only one way to do that, she says. She has to talk with Mrs. Petrelli.

Hey. I know I've posted twice in one day, but I felt bad about not writing for over a week. I was sick with strep throat (ick!) and busy with homework to get anything done. I also am having trouble remembering quite what happens exactly with Peter in the series. Thank God for the internet, but my brother is getting the season 1 box set for his birthday, so that will help me immensely.

Also, I wanted to answer the burning question that you guys keep asking: Had I read Twilight. I have read Twilight many times and am obsessed with it as much as I am obsessed with Heroes. I love it so much. I actually got to see Stephenie Meyer speak and got my books signed. She is truly amazing! I actually have a lot of songs that she has one her playlists, so I listen to those as I type.

Love you all and keep reading!-BB


	11. Chapter 11

Peeking into the room, Bella sees that Mrs. Petrelli has pulled a chair up beside Peter's bed. Nathan, on the other hand, has sat in the chair near the window and stares out of it. There are multiple machines in the room, some beeping with the rhythm of his heart while others are hooked up to tubes that are attached to Peter's arms. His arms are pale and paper-like instead of the health pink and fleshliness that it should be. His face was pale as well, eyes closed and sunken into his head. His face is skeletal, thin and unhealthy as the skin stretches over his bones. Peter looks dead, but only the beeping from the heart can convince Bella that he's alright.

She really wants to right next to him, to hold his hand and watch him until he awakes. It's not her place, though, to be in the chair that Mrs. Petrelli currently occupies. She is a doctor, not a grief counselor or family member. The funny thing is that Bella could not explain why she wants to be beside him. She only knew him from this morning, but it feels like it is the right thing to do. Knowing that her career comes first, she steps into the room.

"Mrs. Petrelli," Bella says as she holds her clipboard tight.

"What is it?" Mrs. Petrelli snaps as she keeps looking at her son, lying in the hospital bed.

"I was wondering if I could talk with you," she continues, unfazed.

"Very well," Mrs. Petrelli responds. She gets up from her chair and she pulls the covers on Peter's bed to cover him. Her stoic face softens as she looks down upon her broken son. There is a shimmer in her eyes as she caresses his face gently with one hand. Bending down to kiss Peter's cheek, something falls from her onto his face. When she straightens, Bella sees that there are tears falling from Mrs. Petrelli's face, but she quickly wipes them away before anyone else sees. Straightening her suit jacket, she follows the doctor from the room.

Bella leads Mrs. Petrelli to her office. She pauses at the door as Bella enters. Mrs. Petrelli notices how messy the doctor's office is; the walls, which are covered in bookshelves, look messy and unorganized. The desk had a lap-top precariously balanced on an array of papers, files coffee cups and more books. The small window has no shades and the sun shines in brightly onto the desk. Bella notices how messy her office actually is, but she can't do anything about it now.

"I apologize for the mess," she says. "I am so busy these days. Come and sit down, please."

Mrs. Petrelli sniffs and comes into the room. There is a padded chair with arms in front of the desk, so she sits in that. Her posture is stiff and formal. Bella sits and shifts awkwardly in her own chair. She arranges Peter's files in front of her and pulls some note paper and a pen towards her. Looking up at Mrs. Petrelli, she begins questioning.

"Mrs. Petrelli, could you please tell me if your son has any diseases that I should know as his doctor?" Bella asks.

"He has none," she replies hurriedly, looking down at her lap and picking off an imaginary piece of lint off her skirt. Bella nods and scribbles down something on the paper. She feels Mrs. Petrelli's eyes boring into her, so she looks up from her notes. Mrs. Petrelli is looking down at her with a stare of cold stone. Both women say nothing for a few minutes as they looked into each other's eyes. Bella opens her mouth to continue questioning, but Mrs. Petrelli interrupts her.

"Why did my son jump off the roof of that building?" she asks. Bella is taken aback; she didn't expect that question at all.

"I don't know," Bella lies, remaining loyal to her promise to Nathan. "I was wondering if you could tell me."

Mrs. Petrelli purses and then says, "Well, if you must know, it was his father."

Bella is confused. "I do not understand," she says. "What do you mean?"

"His father was diagnosed with a severe case of depression," Mrs. Petrelli says. "The doctors said that was genetic. I am very scared for both my sons, doctor, but I fear for Peter more."

"Do you think Peter jumped because he was depressed?" Bella asks.

"I hope not," Mrs. Petrelli responds. "But it seems to be the only explanation for why this happened."

Bella nods. She knows that this is not the explanation for why Peter jumped. She really wants to tell Mrs. Petrelli why he jumped, but Nathan's promise held her back. Hoping that Nathan will tell his mother himself, Bella thanks Mrs. Petrelli and lets her go back to Peter's room while she goes to get his test results.

Waiting in the lab for results has to be the most annoying thing in the world, but to day it is worse for Bella. She is anxious, worried, hopeful, scared and nervous all at the same time. Impatient, she nervously shifts from foot to foot. There are several other doctors and nurses in front of her and out of all of them it is Bella was the least calm at the moment. She had worked in the lab right during graduate school and knows how long it takes to run tests. Still, she wishes that it would go faster. It was like pulling off a band-aid; she prefers if it is done quickly.

Finally, she reaches the door and looks through the files in the clear box next to it. Names flash by and suddenly only one is seen, Peter's. Slowly, Bella pulls out his file. Her eyes are closed as she holds the file shut. Taking a deep breath, she opens her eyes as she quickly opens the file. His results show that Peter is fine and Bella sighs in relief. It is always hard when she knows and cares about her patients a lot. It is always hard to let them go.

Bella hurries down the hall to tell Mrs. Petrelli and Nathan about Peter's results. She is just at his door when she hears voices from inside. She stops before reaching for the doorknob, but is stopped when the door suddenly opens. It is Simone from this morning.

"Hello," she says to Bella, holding out a hand. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," Bella says, surprised to see Simone here. Maybe she and Peter are closer than she thought.

"How is he?" Simone asks, closing the door behind her and preventing Bella from entering by standing in front of it with her arms crossed.

"He's doing great," Bella replies. "I just got back his test results. All show up to be negative for anything that might be harmful for him.

"That's wonderful," Simone says, putting a hand to her heart. "This will be great news for my father. Peter's like a son to him and it would be painful for the both of us to loose him."

"That makes you two like brother and sister," Bella comments, smiling. Simone hesitates for a moment.

She considers the comment and nods. "I guess we are like that."


	12. Chapter 12

Bella grips Peter's results close. She feels crestfallen after working up the courage to walk into his room, only to be interrupted by Simone. She quickly decides to cut their conversation short.

"Well, Simone," Bella began shakily. "It was great to see you again, even thought the circumstances are not the best."

Simone nodded. "I just hope Peter gets better soon," she replies.

"We will do our best to ensure Mr. Petrelli has a speedy recovery," Bella says, a small smile on her lips.

Simone smiles, too. Shifting her coat from one arm to the other, she sighs. "Thank you, Dr. Swan," Simone says. Then, noticing the time, she says, "I better go, I have an appointment with a client in a half-an-hour."

Bella inwardly cheers in triumph. "I won't keep you," she says as Simone heads down the hall. She has successfully gotten rid of Simone and is ready to step into Peter's room, her hand resting on the door knob. Bella is about to turn the knob when she suddenly blacks out. Her mind, which is still conscious, can't believe that this is happening again. She opens her eyes to find herself inside Simone's body once again. Bella feels the sadness that Simone has inside her; it is sadness for her dad, and now for Peter. She feels really bad for Simone, whose life is tougher than her own, even with the new problems she has. Bella concentrates on peaceful and hopeful thoughts to sooth Simone, and then she slips back into her own body. Once again in her own skin, she turns to yell after Simone's retreating back.

"Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime," she yells. Bella can't think of anything else to say that would help.

Simone turns. "I'd like that," she says. "Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yeah," she replies. "Does around two at the Starbucks near Copley Square sound good to you?"

"See you then, Doctor," Simone replies, then turns to leave again.

Bella sags up against the door frame, sighing heavily. Then, remembering she still has Peter's test results, she again lays a hand on the door knob. She is about to turn the knob when she hears voices from within the room, making her stop. She listens to the speakers before daring to enter the room.

She first hears a groan, then someone getting up from a chair. She then hears someone sitting down onto something soft; it was probably Nathan sitting next to Peter on the bed. Then a weak voice coming from a dry and papery throat speaks. "Where am I?" it says. Bella recognizes the voice as Peter's. He has probably just waking, she thinks. She waits for Nathan to respond.

"You're in a hospital," Nathan replies, his voice dull and bored. Bella can hear something else in his voice; it was almost like a disapproving tone that she hears. She hears Peter shifting under his covers, probably sitting up.

"What happened?" Peter asks.

There is a pause. "You don't remember?" Nathan says.

"No."

There is the sound of someone exhaling; Nathan is sighing before he answers. "You jumped, Pete," he replies.

There are more rustling of sheets, like Peter is surprised at his brother's answer. "Jumped?" he says incredulously.

Nathan continues on. "Off the roof of a 15-story building," he says. "You tried to kill yourself. You were a little wound up yesterday, but I thought you were just you being you." What did that mean, Bella asks herself. Is there something going on here that she does not understand or know about?

Peter's thoughts are the same as hers, for he says, with a bit of outrage in his voice, "What are you talking about? I didn't try to kill myself." He pauses, and Bella imagines his soft and narrow face to be twisted in confusion and searching for words. "You were in the alley below," he continues. "I jumped and you...you flew."

Bella's eyes widen. How could she forget what she had seen? Nathan, on the other hand, responds, "I what?"

Peter seems to have not forgotten either. "You flew up and you caught me," he says.

"You jumped, Peter," Nathan replies. Bella can't believe her ears; Nathan is trying to cover up what had happened earlier. The question is why he would do that. "Twenty-five feet to a fire escape," he continues. "I climbed up and carried you down. That's what happened. The rest is just crazy talk. Understand?"

Bella, who is disgusted that Nathan is trying to cover his own ass, is stewing in her anger when she hears footsteps approaching the door. She swings it open so that they would not discover her there, eavesdropping. She finds Nathan standing there, about to reach for the door knob, but is surprised to find her barging in.

"Doctor," he says, straightening his suit jacket.

"Sorry I didn't knock," Bella apologizes. "I was just in a hurry to share with you Peter's test results."

"And?" Nathan asks, waiting for her to share the results.

"All are negative," she replies. "Peter will be fine; he just has a slight bump on his head. That's all I wanted to share with you."

"Why don't you share them with Peter," Nathan says, waving a hand at the hospital bed. "He just woke up."

Bella's heart skips a beat as she looks upon the bed to see Peter, slightly confused, looking up at her. "Oh good," she says, gripping his file nervously.

"I got to go," Nathan says at the doorway, pulling out his phone. "I'll see you later, Peter."

"Bye," Peter says his voice raspy.

"Nathan," Bella calls after him.

He stops as he is closing the door behind him. "Yes, doctor?" he asks.

"Can you call your mother and ask her to come in?" she asks him. "I would love to speak with her, and I am sure she would be delighted to hear that Peter is awake."

Nathan nods and leaves the room, closing the door on Bella and Peter. She turns to Peter, who slips deeper into the covers. "How do you feel?" she asks as she inspects the machines that are hooked up to him.

"Crappy," he replies. He watches Bella check the IV and heart monitor. She feels his warm chocolate eyes on her and her hands shake slightly. She hears him sigh and shift uncomfortably under the covers.

"Why would he do that?" he asks nobody in particular.

"Who are you talking about?" Bella asks.

"Nathan." Peter sighs. "Why is he denying that he flew?"

"I don't know," she replies, not meeting his eyes.

"I saw him with my own eyes," he says.

"Well," Bella replies.

"I'm not insane!" Peter says defensively.

Bella turns to face him. "I didn't say you were," she says. "I don't know what happened." She inwardly cringes; Bella hates lying, but she thinks that she best stay out of this one.

"I'm sorry," Peter says. "I don't know what has gotten into me."

Bella smiles at him. "Get better soon," she says, changing the subject. Peter smiles at her, making her tingle all over. She smiles back, clasping his shoulder. She then leaves, afraid her heart would leap from her chest if she stays any longer in his room.


End file.
